Page 4 of Dark Alleys

I relaxed into my surroundings and pretended I was interested in the memorabilia hanging on the walls. Just a lot of old junk, but the clientele of this bar wouldn’t know the difference.

Blacky would be outside with the gang squad, and he’d take action if there was any reason to. Always a fun time to shake up a club by tossing a dozen of their finest in the can for two or three days.

Made them go nuts and do all kinds of things we could arrest them for.

While they were sorting themselves out, crime numbers would drop like a rocket and that’s what the boss wanted to see. He wanted a drop, but not just for two or three days—for longer—much longer.

No easy way to do that. The only way was to never let up and try to hold the line. That was the main purpose of the gang squad.

Hold the fuckin’ line.

The bartender was a girl I hadn’t seen before. Tall and slim with dark auburn hair and beautiful eyes.

“What can I get you, blondie?” She asked me with a big smile.

“Pitcher of Shiners will do it.”

“You’re easy.” She winked at me.

“You have no idea.”

She filled my first glass for me and moved on to serve another customer. I sipped my beer slowly to make the pitcher last because I might have a long wait before I saw any action.

When the time came, I couldn’t afford to be wasted. Fighting drunk equals dead.

Tried it before and got the scars to prove it.

There was a rhythm to these things. My brother had taught me that. He felt things more than I did and his instincts were keen and accurate. That took experience and I didn’t have as much as him, even though he was younger.

The door opened behind me, and I didn’t turn around. When the new arrivals walked past the bar I saw the tats and knew who they were.

Didn’t take much brain power.

They walked past empty tables and booths and sat down in a booth with easy access to the back exit.

Yep. They were ready and waiting for whatever.

I refilled my glass wondering if Blacky was already in the parking lot out back. The gang squad didn’t wear uniforms but for this outing they’d be wearing tactical.

Not much of a disguise but they’d be out of sight until they weren’t.

The door opened again, and the beautiful bartender glanced up from a pitcher she was filling. She caught my eye for a second, then went back to what she was doing.

Four more.

They sauntered to the back and joined their buds.

About twenty minutes later, four more arrived and then they came quicker. Twos and threes, funneling in.

Eighteen at last count when they stood up and headed toward the rear exit.

My cue to get off my ass.

I pushed a twenty towards the beauty behind the bar and pointed to my cell number on the edge of the bill knowing she probably wouldn’t call.

I went out the front door and made my way around the old brick building, sticking close to the shadows at the side of the parking area.

Harleys rumbled and the shouting escalated. Was about to hit that point where words weren’t enough. Important points of contention had be reinforced with fists and lethal weapons.

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